


Two Witchers One Beast

by frubeto



Series: Aiden and Lambert learn to Use Their Words [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27264892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frubeto/pseuds/frubeto
Summary: A Wolf's and a Cat's path cross in the woods. It turns out to be the beginning of something good.First in a 5-part series about those two idiots.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Series: Aiden and Lambert learn to Use Their Words [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986805
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	Two Witchers One Beast

**Author's Note:**

> I'm crossing show and game canon for this until we have Netflix!Lambert. Also timelines. What are timelines. I take what I want and mush it together. Who's gonna stop me.
> 
> Oh and this is referencing [the bear fat post](https://laurelnose.tumblr.com/post/623455092844249088/please-consider-lamberts-hairstyle-is-the-kind).

The wind turned, and Aiden froze.

_Shit._

He could pinpoint the exact moment his smell reached the other witcher. Until now he’d been downwind, following a scent trail to this camp, and now he was fucked. The other stopped whatever he was doing, slowly looked up to eye his swords on the other side of the fire – just out of reach, what an idiot – and probably focused all his senses on him. It wouldn’t take him long to figure him out, there wasn’t much around them, the forest quiet with most living things avoiding the camp, and Aiden stood out like a –

“Cat,” the other growled into the darkness.

Aiden chuckled, and continued forward more casually. 

“Bear, by the smell of it,” he shot back, giving his position away, and immediately the witcher was up from the fallen tree he’d been sitting on and went to face him, a sidestep conveniently bringing him into reach of his swords. Aiden noticed, but concerned himself more with taking in the man in front of him. Built more heavily than himself, with bulging muscles that would be distracting if they weren’t perfectly able to kill him for a misstep, golden eyes piercing right through him with their glare, chest wide to make his medallion – _oh._

“Wolf,” he corrected, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t been able to tell over the stank of what he now could identify to be holding the other’s hair in place.

“Never met one of you before.”

He stepped closer, using his chance to none too subtly size him up as he touched the medallion in fascination. No visible weapons, though maybe a dagger strapped here or there where surely there was space for it, armour clean and freshly repaired, so no shortage on coin at the moment – more than could be said for himself, and under everything a smell of… annoyance, mostly. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

“What are you doing in these parts?”

Someone had to be off his usual route if they ran into each other here. Though apparently the wolf didn’t like the implication that he shouldn’t be free to go wherever the fuck he liked, if the low grunt was any indication. As if this wasn’t one of the few regions that even still paid Cats.

“My job,” came the helpful reply, and Aiden rolled his eyes. Great. A conversationalist.

“Same as me,” he offered, taking a step back again. “Got hired for the big bad child eating monster, then got wind of an absolutely atrocious smell and found you instead. Seriously. How do you hunt like that?”

“Fuck off.”

He sighed. Well then. Down to business.

“How much are they paying you?”

The fire burning behind the Wolf was blinding in the night, and he couldn’t see much of his face, a clear disadvantage should a fight break out, but he could still hear the scoff coming from him, and smell the rising anger slowly turn.

“That’s what you’re here for? Some weird sort of dick measuring contest?”

Aiden smirked. 

“What, are you so sure of yourself you’d rather want the real deal?”

If that was how he wanted to play this, he wouldn’t be the one backing down. He crowded his personal space again, just in time to see the Wolf’s eyebrow rise suggestively, and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Good to know.”

Well, if it were up to him, that could certainly be arranged.

“But.”

After all of this was over with, maybe. He stepped away, brazenly turning his back to start pacing around and bring them in an equal position to the fire. There was a rustling as the witcher behind him shuffled in confusion, and Aiden allowed a small smile before continuing.

“I want you to use your head. Two witchers, one beast. I have a proposition.”

He reached the side of the camp where a horse was tied and was just considering approaching it when he heard a deep intake of breath, probably accompanied by a hand reaching for the hilt of a sword, and stopped. His own hand stayed still, even if in his mind he was already going through the motions necessary to dodge an attack. Dagger at his right. Spin. Mind the tree root. Checkmate in five. 

But there was no further movement, so he carefully veered off to the left and the atmosphere relaxed again. No touching the horse. Got it.

“I hunt alone,” the Wolf growled, apparently seeing where this was going and wanting to get rid of him.

“So you want us to what, race for it?” Aiden countered, turning to see the Wolf’s arms crossed defensively across his chest.

“I got hired west of here, so we take it down together, bring it to the higher paying town and share the coin. Tell me how that’s not the most profitable solution for both of us?”

More profitable for Aiden, he was sure, that’s why he was here in the first place, but it wasn’t like the Wolf needed to know that before he agreed to it.  However-

“How do I know you’re not just going to kill me and take the full pay.”

Aiden reared back at the accusation. He knew the reputation his school had gained, of course, and he himself surely wasn’t pure innocence, but straight up murder? For no good reason? Not even a contract? He squared his shoulders and knew his face probably conveyed his thoughts very eloquently.

“’Cause I’m not that desperate,” he spat. “I have morals.”

The wolf honest-to-the-gods snorted.

“Next you’re telling me the hare I had for dinner had opinions about the afterlife.”

Ooh, fuck this guy. Maybe he’d have to worry about a dagger to his pretty face after all. If men thought him a monster, fine, but another witcher should at least understand. Especially a Wolf. He took an involuntary step forward but fought to keep his voice cold.

“Like it wasn’t one of yours that brought the nickname butcher down on all of us?” he hissed, and within the second there was a sword at his throat.

Ah. Hit a nerve, huh?

To be honest, he had no idea what had actually occurred in Blaviken. But Wolves were not known to be the cold-hearted killers some Cats were, so he had guessed there was something the rumours didn’t tell. Guessed it hurt when people misinterpreted the story you knew firsthand. When they believed the stories told over ale, the fairytales to scare the children and aldermen not to let a witcher into their midst, lest he slaughter them all. When they didn’t know what actually happened and didn’t care. Only saw the medallion and not the one wearing it. Judged before giving a chance to prove better.

The sword was lowered. 

“Then how do you know I won’t kill you and take off with the coin.”

So at least there was room for self-reflection in that head of his. He forced a smirk.

“You think you could?”

“I think the rumours of your school’s skillset are greatly exaggerated,” the Wolf quipped, and thrust his sword back into its sheath.

It felt like as much of an apology Aiden was likely to get, so he offered a smile before the Wolf went back to sit on his tree, pointedly leaving the sword where it was.

“260.”

The smile fell.

“What?”

“260 crowns and a hot bath. That’s what they’re paying me,” he explained. “What are you in for?”

Aiden huffed at let himself fall into a cross-legged seat on the forest floor. Of course. It was what he had been hoping for, and yet it still stung.

  
“Fuck, it’s that godsdamned song, isn’t it? Suddenly you wolves are making the big money again?”

“What are they paying you,” the other repeated, now knowing he was the one with the better contract, and probably not liking the evasiveness. Aiden relented and shook his head.

“A hundred.”

The gape was almost audible.

“You took on an unknown beast for a lousy hundred crowns?!”

Aiden only shrugged.

“And you’re telling me you aren’t desperate,” the Wolf muttered, and for a second he was worried he was going to shoo him away after all, and he almost held up his hands in defence as he snapped,

“It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

But there was no smell of anger in the air, instead the Wolf half turned to stoke the fire, and raised a single eyebrow at him, amused.

“Well excuse me for assuming you had standards.”

_Dick._

But Aiden smirked, now letting himself admire the way the other body moved with its task, hands rough and strong, and quietly imagined what else those unnecessarily huge arms could be doing.

“Yeah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

The Wolf huffed a laugh, ending in a tentative smile. And then held out what probably no Wolf had for a long time – his open palm to a Cat.

“Lambert,” he said.

Aiden took it.

“Aiden.”

Lambert nodded.

“Get your stuff, we’re leaving before dawn.”

*

And that was how they found themselves, half a day later, in a room at the inn, waiting for a bath to be filled.

“You should have seen its face when I landed that blow!” Aiden said with a laugh.

He’d been on about how great their hunt was for a while, and Lambert had decided to ignore him as he sat down heavily on the bed and tried to peel himself out of his armour without jostling his shoulder too much. It had gotten a few good hits – nothing but scratches, he’d assured Aiden – but it still hurt like a bitch. The Cat himself had grabbed a rag and was scrubbing blood off his skin – not his own, of course, the bastard had been all up in that thing with a dagger and still managed to be out of the way quick enough to avoid any notable injuries. 

Maybe he should ask him to teach him a few tricks. It sure would help getting the upper hand in training against his brothers. He was sure none of them had ever fought together with a Cat, either, or he must have heard about it. The elegance of it, the light-footedness, the fucking landing-on-their-feet on every fall, it had been mesmerising to watch. To the point where he had almost been distracted from his own fight by the curve of Aiden’s body as he closed in for the kill.

But he hadn’t been, of course. Distracted. They had fought well together as a team, their techniques complimenting each other, and had brought the thing down efficiently. And that was the story he’d stick to if anyone asked.

“Anyway, I swear it rolled its eyes at me at that point,” Aiden was saying now, probably after a few other sentences Lambert had missed.

“Maybe if you had let me, it’d have appreciated the view instead.”

He shrugged out of his shirt then, and grunted when he had to move his arm to do so. It would trouble him for a few days, but it would heal, and the hot bath was exactly what he needed.

“And what a view it is,” Aiden murmured, coming over to grab him by the waist and turn him towards the light to get a better look at the cut, another hand taking his arm. It was no rough manhandling, though also by no means soft, almost… gentle, and yet Lambert complied without any resistance. What was happening? Distracted by green eyes on his and a thumb drawing circles on his arm, he even forgot to answer for a moment when asked if he needed any help. He cleared his throat. Licked his lips.

“’m good.”

“Pity,” Aiden said, and _what the fuck did that mean?_ and Lambert watched his gaze drop first to his mouth, then his chest, but before he had time to question it, a maid entered with the last of the water, and Aiden was off to take it from her, fingers trailing across Lambert’s body as he did so.

Gods, he hadn’t known Cats were so… physical. This was almost worse than Geralt’s bard. The way they were always touching and petting and caressing and all those other pretty words he couldn’t bother remember. Even when they were caught fucking it was as if they were tangled with each other, noises muffled by- 

Fuck. Maybe don’t think of that when you’re about to get naked in a tub with a random witcher.

“Go get in first,” said witcher called as he locked the door, and after a steadying breath Lambert finally shook himself out of it and obediently began stripping the rest of the way.

“Cat’s a bit water-shy?” he joked.

  
“A-ha-ha.”

The deadpan reply made him grin, and he stepped into the tub and sank into the water with an unrestrained moan and a subtle igni.

Though not subtle enough, apparently, since Aiden came back around into view and smirked knowingly.

“Inappropriate use of igni,” he tutted, “isn’t that against some no-fun-allowed Wolf school codex?”

Lambert snorted.

“Fuck that,” he said, because while it certainly wasn’t, it might as well have been. And the approving smile Aiden threw his way made him weirdly feel like he had done something right, a warmth sitting right beneath his ribcage that had nothing to do with the water temperature.

Unwilling to think about that any further though, he leant back deeper into the water, and closed his eyes to give the Cat some privacy to strip, should he needed it. 

Yet it wasn’t long until the sound of a blade made his eyes fly open again though, looking around to locate the weapon. He didn’t exactly trust the Cat enough to let him run around with a dagger in hand when he was naked and blind. But the sight that greeted him was not what he’d been expecting. There were indeed dagg ers, slowly piling up on the foot of the bed as Aiden pulled them off his body, but what he’d heard was him sliding one out its sheath to unlodge a fastening on his armour that had apparently gotten stuck, before throwing it down as well and quickly losing clothes.

And while the knives were certainly more than Lambert had estimated, the form revealed under the armour was...  _less,_ and he couldn’t find it in him to look away. He’d seen many witchers in all their glory – although admittedly, mostly wolves – and he’d always assumed  that a certain built was necessary for a witcher to withstand the attacks of beasts a few times your size, and yet the man in front of him was downright  _lean_ in comparison. And he’d seen the deadliness of this one. 

He shook his head, and trying to find a distraction for both of them, took another look at the pile on the bed and controlled his voice back to its default of something teasing and mildly pissed off.

“How many fucking daggers are you carrying.”

It worked, as Aiden turned, apparently not minding being watched, and dropped his smallclothes.

“Just the one, now.”

Lambert snorted a laugh.

“Tend to lose them,” Aiden explained. “When you stick them in drowners. Or a manticore. Or anything really that’s big enough.”

“I really hope you’re not talking about your cock anymore.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Aiden said, but a laugh betrayed him. “Scoot.”

And Lambert did, reluctantly sitting up straighter and pulling his legs in, expecting Aiden to join, but instead he detoured around his back, keeping a hand on his shoulder like one would to not spook a horse, and Lambert was about to protest when the hand suddenly left, and a bucket of water was emptied over his head with a loud splash.

He sputtered.

“What-!”

By the time he got the water and following dirt out of his eyes and could open them again, Aiden had slipped into the bath with him and was leaning over to work a hand into his hair.

“What the _fuck_ was that for?!” he growled.

Another hand went to his neck, holding him in place as Aiden only smirked and continued to rub water between strands of hair, bringing his face up right in front of him, his voice practically a purr when he answered,

“Because I’m not fucking you with that shit on your head.”

What. 

The fuck. 

Was he-? Did he just-?

He grabbed the hand away from his neck and held it roughly by the wrist. Stared at Aiden. Noticed the way he was sitting between his spread legs, hovering over him. Panicked. When did that happen? How was this happening? When had he missed-? 

He shuffled backwards on instinct, away from Aiden, and further into his end of the tub, still staring. Eventually Aiden leant back, too, probably realising they were far from on the same page here, and carefully extracted his hand form Lambert’s grip. Then cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I misread that, then,” he said, keeping the tiniest question mark at the end of it.

But when Lambert didn’t correct him and instead kept on staring, trying to make sense of the situation, he wordlessly took the soap and made quick work of cleaning himself, getting out of the tub and towelling off, and was dressed before Lambert had any time to unfreeze and figure out how in the name of Melitele’s glorious tits they ended up here.

“At least let me buy you a drink, yeah?” Aiden muttered, pulling him out of his thoughts with a pat to his good shoulder. “I’ll be downstairs.”

And he sounded… disappointed. But otherwise free of judgement. Lambert shook himself. He was too damn tired for this shit. Some part of his brain yelled at him though, that he needed to salvage whatever it was they had, and he’d never been good at ignoring his brain when it did that, so after taking his time getting clean he did go to join the Cat, to remind him he didn’t have the coin to get drunk on piss-ale, and maybe offer some of his moonshine instead.

*

It was a while after that before they saw each other again.

Lambert’s boots squelching in the mud, his feet squelching in his boots, and the weight of the soaked up water dragging him down even further into the shitshow this town called a road, the thought of a warm meal and a dry bed was the only thing that kept him going, even if chances were their nice little extra charge for witchers was well outside what he’d be able to pay and honestly, with the way he looked after those last few weeks, they probably wouldn’t let him stay for all the coin on the continent.

So when he reached the inn at nightfall and had his horse stabled and dried, he couldn’t even be arsed to put on his best sociable smile he reserved for moments like this, and instead just hoped for the best while mentally preparing himself for a night in the stables. Fuck, at this point even that would already be a decent step up from his previous nights.

Stepping in, he threw his hood back – not that it had kept any of the wetness off him – a puddle already forming in his wake, and went up to the innkeeper.

“A room,” he said, and immediately knew he wouldn’t get it.

“No can do, I’m afraid,” the old man said, sounding genuinely sorry, and at the same time annoyingly excited. “We’re fully booked. With that weather we’ve been having, everyone’s staying a bit longer, waiting it out, you see? Don’t want to be caught outside in that, eh?”

Yeah. Great.

Thunder clapped in the distance, and Lambert groaned. Another night outside it was, then.

“Got anything to eat?”

“Aye,” the innkeeper nodded, and eagerly scooped up the coins landing on the bar in front of him before scurrying off. 

Lambert looked around the room, scanning for an empty table he could take up, and the other patrons for signs of trouble, and finding neither. But there was a familiar scent in the air that he couldn’t quite-

“Crowd’s a bit nervous, y’see, we don’t often get witchers around here, and then there’s two at once-”

Lambert snapped his head around to look at the innkeeper who had returned with a bowl. Two? He checked the room again. Gods, please let it be one of them. Geralt, maybe. Or Eskel. Sweet, sweet Eskel would probably even part with some of his coin if he looked miserable enough. And he wasn’t above trying. He’d even settle for Vesemir. Or Co ë n! Co ë n often travelled these parts, right?

“I’d only ask that you cause no trouble,” the innkeeper insisted, pointing him in the right direction. “I don’t want no trouble in my place.”

And that was when Lambert spotted him, sitting  with his back to him, the moron, out of armour, hair still wet from either a bath or the downpour outside, and somehow his heart decided it was time to start beating excitedly at the sight.

He turned the soft smile threatening his lips into a grin.

“Don’t worry,” he told the man, “we’re old friends.”

Then he took the offered bowl of stew and made off towards the table where he was now surely being expected, even if friends might have been pushing it a bit far. But they  _had_ spent a great night drinking together, and what more did it take, really. Anyone who wasn’t actively trying to kill him made the list these days.

Still he plonked down across from the Cat already glaring, fully prepared for when he inevitably launched into a full-bodied laugh at his drenched form, and began shovelling food into mouth.

“Fuck you, too.”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.”

Lambert kept glaring, though it was slightly hindered by how much he was enjoying the food, and the company.

“If you’re here for the wraith, I took care of that.”

“I figured.”

A few more spoonfuls of ignoring the Cat’s piss poor attempts to keep that smug smile off his face, and Lambert knew he was going to cave. They both knew where this was going. Aiden was only waiting for him to ask, and unfortunately the ache in his back meant he had to.

So he sighed, and swallowed the last o f his pride, washed it down his some broth.

“You got a room?”

Aiden hummed in agreement.

“One bed.”

And here they were again, the following come-ons entirely predictable, and Lambert preemtively rolled his eyes at them.

But when none came, and Aiden didn’t even make a single remark about sharing body heat, he looked up, surprised, and traitorously disappointed. Because apparently, he wanted him to. Because apparently, he wanted another chance to say yes. Because apparently, he suddenly very much wanted to share that bed. And once he realised that, he couldn’t think of anything else.

“You don’t look like you’d mind the floor right now, though,” Aiden said, and Lambert hummed non-committally. 

He wouldn’t. But there were certainly better ways to spend the night. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about it. Since their last meeting he’d had enough time to think it over. Late at night when he couldn’t sleep, his thoughts drifting to what would have been if he hadn’t panicked, and just went with it. It was usually a very pleasant fantasy.

So while Aiden filled him in on what had been happening around lately, Lambert listened, sometimes adding his own, but mostly he was still focussed on eating, which proved harder than he’d thought with his armour and cloak soaked through and through, pulling and pushing at him unnecessarily, jostling his every movement, and he couldn’t  _wait_ to get out of them. 

Preferably with some help.

Aiden however continued to be annoyingly respectful of his earlier rejection, no sign if he was even still interested or just keeping all further advances to himself, like a fucking gentleman, and eventually Lambert decided he had to take matters into his own hands.

Yet it was easier said than done, and it still took the better part of a generously ordered ale of smalltalk for him to find the courage to ask.

“Does your offer still stand?”

There was a silence.

He’s audibly put down his tankard to lead into his, and now he was quickly regretting it as Aiden just stared at him questioningly. But he held his gaze, did his best not to fidget, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, watching in relief as a delighted smile spread across the face in front of him as he caught on.

Then Aiden leant forward, and his voice dropped an octave.

“My conditions are still the same.”

He trailed a pointed look down his drenched and muddy form when Lambert didn’t react.

“Bath.”

Lambert smirked. Oh, well, if he insisted. If he was  _paying._

“Hm,” he only said, vaguely agreeing, and emptied his ale.

And if they were thrown out in the morning for noise disturbances, then, what was another night outside?

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://frubeto.tumblr.com).


End file.
